


An Apple a Day

by pissoffsherlock



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Gen, future Pete/Patrick, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissoffsherlock/pseuds/pissoffsherlock
Summary: Patrick couldn't look at himself in the mirror anymore. He didn't know how it got this bad again. He'sfat.Inspired by an actual quote from Rolling Stone circa March 2006 where Patrick sees Pete munching on cookies and says "I gain weight if I eat an apple."Can stand on its own but I'm going to add more chapters eventually.





	An Apple a Day

Patrick couldn't look at himself in the mirror anymore. He didn't know how it got this bad again. He's _fat._

But Patrick is starting to get it now, he gets why he was pushed to the side in photoshoots, and why the girls and guys hit on everyone else and not _him_. He was _hideous_. No wonder no one wanted him. 

During the hiatus Patrick finally had complete control over his life. No obligations to other people or schedules he didn't have say in or when or where to stop for food on tour. No, Patrick finally had control in his decisions. 

After telling the guys he needed space and they needed to take a break, one of the first things Patrick did was empty his fridge. He knew he needed a new start, new projects, new friends, new _life_. 

At the end of the hiatus Patrick was finally thin. No more fans screaming _FATRICK_ at him, no more girls and boys hitting on other people, no more being shoved to the background of photoshoots. No, Patrick was finally _pretty_ with his delicate cheekbones and pale skin and thin body dressed in tailored suites. In fact for the first time Patrick knew he was _hot_.

What Patrick didn't see though were the old friends casting worried glances at him in the bar when he declines the 3rd offer of someone trying to buy him dinner and instead insists on another beer. “Budweiser Select 55, please.”

He didn't see the ribs pushing against his skin, hidden beneath layers and leather jackets, or the _too pale_ skin hidden under skinny jeans, or the hollows in his cheeks and the bags under his eyes and his slowly yellowing teeth blamed on “too much tea I should really get them whitened.” 

Or maybe he did and he just liked it.


End file.
